


Do Right Daddy Blues

by BlossomTime



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomTime/pseuds/BlossomTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...could I call you daddy?" Harold's voice quavered between instant regret and desperate hope.</p>
<p>Lionel's hand slid lower to give Harold's ass a firm squeeze. "Yeah," he said, "I wouldn't mind."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Right Daddy Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the name of a strangely sexy country song by Gene Autry:  
> "You can feel my legs and you can feel my thighs,  
> but if you feel my thighs, you gotta ride me high.  
> I'm a do-right daddy, but I can't be treated this way."

"Are you awake?" Harold whispered at Lionel's back.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a sleepy rumble. He rolled over to face Harold, pulling the covers up and around Harold's shoulders. Even in the dim, color washed out of everything, Harold's eyes were crazy blue.

"I'm... I'm embarrassed to ask, but..." Harold looked away, his fingers pushing through Lionel's chest hair. "When we're... when we make love..." Lionel was struck by the delicacy of the phrase in contrast to how he thought of the loud sweating urgent things they did.

"Aw, don't come over all shy on me, Harold." Lionel teased, but held Harold close, reassuring.

"...could I call you daddy?" Harold's voice quavered between instant regret and desperate hope.

Lionel's hand slid lower to give Harold's ass a firm squeeze. "Yeah," he said, "I wouldn't mind." He kissed Harold then, pushing into his mouth, tasting him deeply. When their lips parted, Lionel stayed close, close enough that he knew Harold would see him clearly without his glasses. "Do you want me to call you anything special?"

"Oh, just Harold is fine." He gave a small thin-lipped smile, pleased and blushing to the roots of his hair.

"Yeah, Harold _is_ pretty special," Lionel  said fondly and ran his fingernails lightly along Harold's spine and down his ass, something that never failed to elicit a shiver of delight. 

"Oh.  _Oh._ Oh  _daddy._ "  Harold's eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy, his head falling back.

Lionel took the hint and kissed his neck, hard and sloppy, his teeth grazing tender skin. "Oh  _Harold_ ," he whispered into Harold's quickening pulse. 

He kissed and licked down collarbone and chest and took an erect nipple into his mouth, loving the taste of sweat and skin, the feel of tufts of hair against his lips. He sucked, hard, and was rewarded with a shameless lust-soaked groan. "Daddy, yes." Harold's back arched as Lionel pushed a shoulder down so Harold was flat against the mattress, "Yes, yesssss."

Lionel moved to nestle between Harold's legs, still sucking and pressing Harold's nipple against his teeth with his tongue. Harold's balls were cool against his belly, cock pressed hard and hot below his rib cage. He moved against him, experimentally grinding his chest into Harold's groin. Harold gasped and whimpered and wrapped his legs around Lionel's broad back. Lionel moved to the other nipple and felt a smear of Harold's precome cool on his skin. Lionel moaned a _Harold_ into his chest. 

Harold's hands pressed at his shoulders, urging him downward. Lionel smiled into Harold's skin. Harold seemed to get stuck in a stammer or spill all of his words out all at once in a babble of over-precision when he asked for something sexual. He'd yammered on for ages when he first asked Lionel to spend the night. Lionel had wondered how long he could possibly keep talking, excavating a pit of qualifiers and explanations, blushing from pink to crimson, before he interrupted with a yes. But once they were touching, skin to skin and as close as possible, Harold's body was utterly fluent, greedy for everything, pressing, squeezing, licking, moving Lionel's hands to where he wanted them, adjusting their pace, sighing and moaning, flushing and slick with sweat. 

Lionel had been grateful for this.  It fe lt like being led in  a dance. He'd been afraid of hurting  Harold , unsure of the limits of his body, the delineation of the disability he would never discuss. Was it muscular? Skeletal? Genetic? An injury?  Any of these together?  He was both surprised and not to feel scars that had been hidden under so much fabric, but  scars could be from  anything:  illness, treatment, a car wreck, a fall.  More important than any answer was the way Harold had luxuriated in their bodies together,  soaking up every affection Lionel pressed to  his skin .

Lionel slid down and buried his face in Harold's crotch, stroking his cheeks over soft hair, drunk on the warm scent of him, setting careful kisses along his hipbones, nipping at the tops of his thighs. He knew he was teasing, but he loved to make Harold demand to be sucked off, to press himself urgently to his lips, loved when he would use Lionel's mouth with impatient lust. "You want somethin', Harold?" There was laughter in his voice, and he scratched short nails gently down Harold's lightly-furred thighs. 

Instead of puffing out his usual appalled exhalation, Harold tipped his head up and looked adoringly at Lionel, reaching down and gently stroking a thumb down the side of his face. "Oh, daddy," his voice turned from sweet to deep and urgent, "oh, daddy. I want you to suck my cock." Lionel felt breathless then, his heart too full. 

He wrapped a hand around the base of Harold's dick and pulled it to his lips. He kept his eyes on Harold's. He sucked the head, now  nearly purple, into his mouth. 

It was god damned ridiculous how much he loved  Harold's cock. Smooth skin, hard  in his mouth, salt at the tip like river water at high tide. Firm in his hand, every stroke of his palm and pass of his tongue making Harold curse and groan. He loved  using his forearm pin Harold's hips to the bed, loved how Harold would forget himself and start to thrust involuntarily. He loved coating Harold with his spit,  slicking his hand, mak ing  long,  squeezing strokes beneath his mouth. "Oh, fuck, oh Lionel, oh Jesus, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck _fuck_ !"  Harold's cock pulsed and pulsed and  Lionel's mouth flooded with hot and salt and lust.  He sucked at it all and it dripped from his chin and over his knuckles. Harold  pushed rhythmically into Lionel's hand and mouth and,  his curses  collapsing to only vowels and then  to  a keening hum. 

Lionel gently  laid his head onto Harold's belly, still holding most of his weight on  his arms . It felt right to be here, to hear Harold's blood and breath, to have his legs limp around him, to stroke his hips and thighs. "Mmmmmmm, ticklish," Harold  whispered, and  pulled at Lionel's hand. Lionel lifted himself up, crawled up the length of Harold's body and curled himself around his chest and shoulders, tucked his chin into the hollow of Harold's neck,  his breath turning deep and even . 

"Can I do anything for you?" Harold murmured, drowsy. 

"Shhh. I'll catch you on the flip side, sleepyhead." Lionel gave him a proprietary squeeze. "I'll ask for something crazy sexy, I promise." 

Harold was already asleep.


End file.
